


don’t let me go

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Felix is emotionally constipated, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: Annette is injured in battle and Felix cannot handle the feelings that were suddenly thrown into his face.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	don’t let me go

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toe into this ship because it's so good.  
> Enjoy!

The umpteenth skirmish with the Imperial army. It became bothersome, really. The boar just ought to break down Enbarr’s doors and finish the war once and for all. If only it were that easy.

He took out his frustration on an enemy archer who got a little too brave, liberating his head from his shoulders before he could nock back an arrow.

If it was too bloody and unnecessary, his fighting partner didn’t indicate it. Annette seemed unbothered by his violence where she was, launching magic from where she sat on her horse, looking foreboding in black armor.

All of the flitting clumsiness and cheer disappeared the moment a battle began. She was never cruel, never letting her opponent suffer when she dealt a fatal blow. Most of them didn’t live long enough to suffer anyway when her magic connected.

He told her that being on a horse just made her a bigger target. She waved him off, insisting that she was up for the challenge. Truthfully, she did do well as their Dark Knight, riding alongside the likes of Sylvain and Marianne. The trio always struck terror in the hearts of the enemy.

And he definitely wasn’t jealous whenever he saw Sylvain and Annette discussing their horses at the stables. Definitely not.

Annette with her magic, him with his rapier, and they were a force to be reckoned with. Especially with the waves of armored units that crumpled easy under magic and had convenient spaces in carapace-like armor for his sword to find.

Eventually, the enemy got the idea that their armored units would only fall under them, mages and brawlers and axe-wielders taking their place.

It normally would be worrying, leaving more room for error as the enemy had more chances to be bold, make a charge towards them.

“We got this,” Felix muttered.

Annette couldn’t possibly hear him over the din, but she seemed to nod in agreement.

They pushed forward, dodging dark spells and tomahawks as slowly the enemy was whittled down.

“Mind your right flank!” Felix called out, as if he wasn’t constantly glancing over to make sure she was okay.

“ _You_ mind your right flank!” Annette jabbed back with a sunny smile.

She urged her horse forward, taking up her lance and spearing a poor mage through the gut. Knowing how difficult she found use of weapons, he was impressed.

Half a playful jab, half an actual warning as he turned and cut through another archer who got too close.

“Fe—.”

He turned back just in time to see a warrior, axe gleaming in hand, charging Annette as she turned her horse.

“Annette!”

Impotent words flitted in the air as the axe left the warrior’s hand and connected with Annette’s torso, tearing through her black armor.

Annette still dealt the killing blow, armor melting and bubbling as magic seared through metal and skin. The axe dropped away from her body as the attacker fell with a gurgling howl as their flesh burned off the bone.

She remained bowed over her horse for a few horrible seconds, face pale, before falling off the other side with a thump.

Felix wasn’t quite conscious of his feet moving towards Annette. He was wound up and made to move like Cornelia’s damned automatons.

Beyond the roaring in his ears, his mind screamed at him. Failure. Goddess, he was a failure. His brother and his father died in the name of the boar, in the name of conviction and honor and all that crock. Why was he denied the same fate that was surely to befall all Fraldarius men? Why didn’t he do better and place his body in harm’s way?

A stray arrow grazed her horse’s side, sending it into a frenzy now that Annette’ firm hand wasn’t on the reins. Felix couldn’t help but feel the same way, unhinged, trying to shake off a blow that didn’t draw any blood on his body but hurt all the same. Felix dodged the bucking horse, cutting down the enemy—stabbing the fallen axe wielder who struck Annette for good measure—as he stood over Annette’s form.

The enemy closed in on them, seeing the opportunity now that the mage had fallen.

“Healer! Seiros, damn it all, I need a healer!” he bellowed.

He spared a glance at the body at his feet. The first thing he noticed was the color red, the wrong kind of red, not the vibrance of her hair or her delicate blush, but shiny and sticky. Lips that brought pretty songs were parted in gasping, wordless breaths. It was so utterly wrong it made him want to vomit.

No, he couldn’t be weak again. He had to make sure that he could keep someone from killing her before a healer could arrive.

For agonizing moments, he didn’t know if his cries were heard, if Annette was going to die at his feet and he was going to be a pathetic witness to the tragedy.

White magic soared over his shoulder, blasting back an armored unit that attempted to make a charge from the underbrush.

“Felix, what—oh!”

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Marianne dismounting her horse and kneeling next to Annette.

“What happened?” she demanded. Her eyes didn’t leave the bloody gash carved into Annette’s side and already white magic collected at her fingertips, dancing over the wound.

“Axe. You need to get her out of here.”

She was silent as she prodded at the wound. Annette moaned weakly before going quiet again. Marianne’s shoulders sagged for a heart-stopping moment before they stiffened.

“I can’t move her like this. I need some time before I can get her on Dorte and take her back.”

Not ideal, with the battle raging around them. Already a friendly battalion closed around them, shielding them somewhat from the enemy. Felix wanted to howl in anger. He should have been the one to take the blow or be the one to fix his mistake. Annette bled and he could do nothing.

“Do what you have to do,” he hissed.

If his attitude grated on her nerves, Marianne didn’t show it. Instead, her focus was only on Annette. She squinted in concentration as light magic flowed from her fingertips. Felix couldn’t stop to marvel, but he couldn't help but feel the stab of envy that she could help Annette in all the ways he couldn't.

He could just make sure all three of them didn’t die before Marianne finished the job. He hacked and slashed, replacing his rapier for his silver sword as the lines slowly thinned and bodies piled up on the ground.

“Felix!”

His head snapped to her face, fearing the worst. Instead of grief, he saw a fierce determination that almost seemed foreign in the normally-timid woman’s face.

“I’m taking her back to camp,” Marianne said. “I—I’ll send someone to help you here.”

“Don’t bother,” he barked. “I can handle this section myself.”

Marianne looked like she was going to argue for a moment, but clearly decided against it.

“The Goddess guide you.”

He didn’t watch as Marianne hauled Annette onto her horse and galloped away.

* * *

Felix was a veritable monster on the way back to the monastery. They had received word that Annette was stabilized by no small amount of light magic and already on a wagon back to the monastery. Felix was stuck a day’s travel behind her, unable to know if she was still okay.

He wanted to know if she was okay, going to be okay. Since he couldn’t know, all he wanted was to stab something. Everyone gave him a wide berth, even Sylvain sparing him any of his jokes.

By the time they arrived at Garreg Mach, Annette was still in the infirmary, the door firmly shut as healers worked on her.

She was alive. That was all anyone would tell him.

Mercedes was allowed in, as one of their best healers. She tried to be soothing to Felix, though it was grating on his nerves. Of course, Mercedes would be bright and optimistic, even during the worst of times.

“Is she going to be okay?” he snapped at her, fed up with the coddling and the censored words. “When can I see her?”

A muscle ticked in Mercedes’ jaw and it was strangely terrifying to see. “She is still healing, Felix. She lost a lot of blood. We were lucky to save her lung as it is. It may be weeks before she wakes up, even longer before you can see her.”

“Weeks,” Felix echoed dumbly.

He stormed away before Mercedes could respond.

Her lung? Goddess, it was that bad. He had failed her so perfectly that she may be crippled for life.

He didn’t know if it was his place to pray. He didn’t do much of it when Glenn or Rodrigue died. What good was a prayer if the person was already dead? Annette was still alive, but like magic, it was something that was always cast to the side.

Instead, he took up a training sword and hacked at dummies until his body shook from exhaustion and his skin on his sword hand cracked and bled. Each dummy, every imaginary foe that he slaughtered, was his own prayer.

_It won’t happen again. Don’t allow it to happen again. When the time comes, and it is me or her, take me instead._

* * *

As the days dragged on, he kept a strange patrol over her room in the infirmary. Three times a day, after each meal, just to see if anything had changed. Sometimes a fourth in the middle of the night, when sleep wouldn’t find him.

A week had passed, two weeks. He still looked to see if anything changed, if he could see her. Marianne had let slip that Annette had awoken a few times, but apparently it was never long enough to warrant allowing guests into her room. While understandable, he still hated it. To hear about her health wasn’t the same as seeing it.

After lunch one day, after days of no development, the door to Annette’s room opened right after he passed it.

“Felix.”

The graveness of tone had him freeze mid-step, turning back to see the Professor exiting the infirmary.

“Did something happen?” Felix asked, breathless.

The Professor stared at him, almost through him. There was no blood on their hands, but there was the faint ozone smell of magic that clung to them.

“She will be fine,” they said flatly. “I’ll likely need to keep her out of battles for the next month, so I will need to mobilize our healers and mages to take her place in the meantime.”

“Nobody can replace her,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

They smiled knowingly and Felix immediately felt his ears heat up, like he had said too much.

He cleared his throat, hoping to get away from those knowing eyes as soon as possible. “Is she awake? Can I see her?”

Another enigmatic smile. “Oh, yes. She was asking for you, in fact.”

Felix’s heart clenched as he pushed past his teacher and entered Annette’s room. He didn't even hear them shutting the door behind him, only hearing the squeak of surprise that escaped the woman resting in bed.

Somehow, her hair was even redder than he remembered. Maybe it was how pale her skin was, how crisp and white the sheets were.

“Felix?” she said.

It was an unseasonably warm day, so the window was open, allowing the breeze to come in. He wanted to shut the window and bundle her up with blankets. In her weakened state, she couldn’t catch any illness.

“You’re not saying anything,” Annette muttered. Color rose to her face in obvious discomfort.

He missed her voice. She looked so painfully small and weak, not like the flitting thing who danced around and sang songs whenever she had the chance.

Guilt and anger mixed with relief, turning it to something different. He paced about her room as she watched, trying to find words, any words. Words weren’t his specialty. That was for his father. No, he was a man of action. And what could he do in a situation like this?

“You’re awake,” Felix said, immediately cringing at how banal it was.

“Yes,” she replied cheerily. “I’m glad to hear the battle was a victory.”

She truly was maddening sometimes. Why did she think of the battle? He didn’t give any thought to the battle after it was over. He could barely attend the war council afterwards without wanting to crawl out of his own skin in restless energy.

She almost died. He almost watched her die.

“You should have told me he was coming, the warrior who attacked you. I would have helped,” he rasped. “I could have parried the blow while you took him out.”

Oh, how he thought about the many ways that things could have been different. If he hadn’t called out to her, if she had turned to her left instead her right. If he had stayed in formation with her when she urged her horse forward.

“You were busy,” Annette said.

“That’s no excuse, not for me or you!” he snapped.

She eyed him blandly, as if he was a child throwing a temper tantrum. “It was a battle, Felix. Chaos. There was nothing you or I could have done to stop it,” she stopped, taking a couple breaths as she winced. “Give me a moment.”

His blood froze his veins as he watched her struggle to catch her breath. Goddess, she had a hard time speaking. It was _that_ bad.

Finally, she continued, “I am in this war, for good or ill. If I die in the name of this war, so be it.”

His lip curled as the thought of burying her struck him through the heart. “It still should have been me who engaged with that wretch.”

Felix would have severed his head from his shoulders, cut off limbs, in their defense. He would not have allowed the Imperial warrior anywhere near Annette.

“You could’ve been just as hurt as I was, maybe even killed,” she protested.

Felix shouted, hands in fists at his sides, “At least I would’ve died for something worth it!”

The words hung over their heads. Felix blanched, the anger draining to nothing. Now, he definitely knew he said too much.

“I’m no healer,” he sputtered as he started to pace about the room, anything to distract from whatever epiphany just struck him over the head. “I can’t fix you if you get hurt. I just have to stand there like an idiot while Mercedes and the Professor do what I should’ve been doing.”

“You don’t like light magic,” Annette said softly. Her fingers picked at the blanket covering her legs and he tried to focus on the absentminded motion instead of her blushing face.

“I don’t like leading battalions, but the thrice-damned Professor managed to get me to do that,” he growled.

She winced at his tone and Felix immediately felt chastised. What was he doing, yelling at a woman who nearly died in battle, because of him?

“Would you sit, Felix? Your pacing is giving me a headache,” she grumbled. Immediately, she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “I didn’t mean that. Sorry.”

He shook his head, forcing himself to relax. “Don’t be sorry.”

He sat down at the edge of her bed, purposefully ignoring the wooden chair set against the wall. Up close, he could see the bandages that wrapped around her chest, protecting her modesty and the healing wound. No blood had soaked through, a much better state than what he had last seen of her.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

A dumb question. He had been dealt similar injuries and they hurt enough that sleep would be the only release from it.

Annette wrinkled her nose. “It hurts. Mercedes, Marianne, and the Professor have been good to me, it just—.” She stopped again, breathing. “Lose my breath quickly. That’s annoying.”

All he could do was helplessly watch her and wish that he was in her place. Instead of brooding, he forced some levity into his voice. “But they’ll fix that? How else will you be able to sing your little songs for me?”

Her cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Oh, Felix. Leave it to you to make fun of me while I’m—languishing in bed.”

If that was her way of guilting him, it worked. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

He caught her hand before he could think better of it. His heart leapt to his throat at his own boldness as Annette visibly stiffened. Her hands were soft and small and looked perfect in his own, like something out of Ashe’s books.

“Sorry about teasing me? You’re never sorry about that,” Annette said with a small smile.

A light jab, as if she didn’t want to push and ask what he was really sorry about.

He wasn’t good with words, but he would at least speak up while he had the chance and his courage hadn’t already fled.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to help you. I don’t like feeling so helpless like that.”

Annette made a soft sound, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not good with words, clearly,” Felix continued.

She smiled gently. “That’s okay.” She seemed to read him perfectly, that this wasn’t just concern of a classmate or a brother-in-arms. She had always been soft with him and he was less harsh with her. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even notice it until Ingrid or Sylvain would point it out. Tease him about it, really.

Annette watched his face and he couldn’t help a smile of his own. They sat in silence for a while before she murmured, “You know, if I wasn’t, uh, like this, I think I would kiss you right about now.”

All Felix’s thoughts came to a halt. Annette blushed at her own words and Felix could feel his ears heat up. Did she really mean that? Or was she so delirious from the potions that the healers were surely plying her with to know what she was saying?

“If you wanted to, of course,” she amended. Once again, she seemed to take sudden interest in the thread-count of her blanket.

Of course, she managed to put words to the thoughts he had toyed with for days on end. She was always braver than he was. He could only take her lead.

Slow, giving Annette all the opportunity to take back her words if she didn’t really mean them. She watched him with wide eyes, not moving, not saying anything.

His eyes shut at the last moment, taking in her features, the sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, the blue of her eyes. He gently pressed his lips to hers, chaste, not pushing. She tasted like sleep and vulneraries. The sigh she made at the back of her throat when he pressed just a touch closer was the loveliest song he had ever heard.

He stayed close when he pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled openly. He couldn’t help but smile in response, as if a hollow in his chest had become filled.

“There’s a song in a famous opera that goes something like ‘kissing me breathless’. I think you just did that,” Annette whispered.

He knew she was joking, but he still checked that she wasn’t in any distress. When that was clear, he stroked his thumb over her hand. “Are you sure you didn’t write it yourself? That’s a good one.”

“I’ll find a place for it somewhere. For now, stay?” Even as she spoke, her voice was getting faint and her eyes were fluttering.

He squeezed her hand gently and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right here.”

* * *

When the Professor returned that evening, they found Annette sleeping in her bed and Felix still sat at Annette’s bedside, bowed forward and softly snoring.

They smiled and quietly closed the door, leaving the two to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is soooooo pure.  
> All comments and such are appreciated, especially in stressful times like this.  
> [I am also attempting to make my general twitter my writer twitter. Give me a follow there as well!](https://twitter.com/BlooRalts)  
> Cheers!


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